


Bookshop

by mercurymoon7490195



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Books, Bookstores, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 19:20:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercurymoon7490195/pseuds/mercurymoon7490195
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lord, lead us not into temptation. Or bookstores, which are pretty much the same thing. (Written for ferrejolras week on tumblr, back in october)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bookshop

"I think you have a problem."

Combeferre glanced at him over the top of his book."Not really, no."

Enjolras took the seat beside him, moving the books off the chair. "Yes, you do."

"Last time I checked, reading wasn't illegal. It was, in fact, encouraged by most of the population." He turned back to the page, frowning. "Don't set the drinks on the books, please."

Enjolras rolled his eyes, handing over his espresso. "One sugar, as requested."

"Mm, thanks." He took a sip, smiling. "Perfect." he gestured with his coffee, turning back to his book. "What did you get?"

"A latte?"

"No," Combeferre laughed. "I meant the book."

"Oh," Enjolras passed it across the table, leaning back in his chair. "We don't have that one already, do we?"

"I don't think so, surprisingly enough." Passing the book back, Combeferre picked up another, cracking the spine almost reverently. "So why now?" he asked. "I've been suggesting Plato to you for years."

"And I hadn't forgotten that," Enjolras replied. "I just figured I'd pick it up, now that finals are over and I have some free time—" He turned the thin paperback over in his hands. "At least enough free time for a book this size."

"I was going to say, your definition of free time usually involves more brochure printing and rally-planning these days."

Enjolras shrugged. "The world isn't going to change by itself," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Seems to have a way of keeping us rather busy."

"So it would seem." Combeferre lowered his head back to his books, setting the one in his hands on top of the first and picking up a third.

"Which pile is that," Enjolras asked, arching an eyebrow.

"The purchase pile."

"Are all of them going to go in the purchase pile?"

"That remains to be seen."

"We don't have room on the shelf for that many."

"Enjolras." Combeferre stared up at him, fingers drumming on the spine. "Honestly—"

"Fine, fine." Enjolras threw up his hands in defeat, not daring to roll his eyes until they were safely hidden behind his book. He took a slow sip of his latte, letting the warmth and foam wash over his tongue.

"Besides," Combeferre added quietly. "There is always room."

Enjolras snorted, slamming his cup back on the table. "You are a madman," He spluttered into his sleeve. "What, you're going to stack them all on your side of the bed?"

"No, I was thinking about putting them on the nightstand. Or maybe I'll put them on your side of the bed."

"Then where would I sleep?"

"On the couch, maybe? The floor?"

Enjolras scowled. "You'd miss me before the night was out."

"Maybe. Books don't kick me in their sleep."

Enjolras opened his mouth to retort, then shut it again, standing. "I'm going to go look around again, I think."

"Alright, m'dear. Have fun."

Enjolras wandered away into the stacks, trailing a finger along the rows of spines as he walked. He couldn't fault Combeferre on his book collection, not really. At least a few of the books on their shelves were his; countless biographies of Robespierre and various translations of historical documents sat side by side with Combeferre's books on hieroglyphs and The Lepidopterologist's Field Guide. Plus, Combeferre hadn't complained when Enjolras brought home a second print of Liberty Leading the People. He supposed Combeferre could have his fun too.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

COURFEYRAC, 14:02 : How are the errands going?

Enjolras sighed.

'We are still in the bookstore.'

COURFEYRAC, 14:03: HA, I TOLD YOU TO HIT IT LAST

'I know'

COURFEYRAC, 14:03: I'm so sorry man

COURFEYRAC, 14:04: Though to be fair, you knew what you were getting into, with Ferre and bookstores. You better get comfortable.

COURFEYRAC, 14:04: You two still coming to movie night?

'Eventually. Hopefully shouldn't take that long.'

COURFEYRAC, 14:05: Well, there's no real rush. Not worth it to tell him to hurry up.

Enjolras chuckled under his breath. 'I don't have that much of a death wish,' he replied, slipping his phone back in his pocket. He made a wide loop around the mystery section, letting his feet carry him into the mingled stacks of science fiction and fantasy, only loosely organized by author. He stared across the familiar titles, leaning against the shelf with a sigh. In his head he ran over the books he had read recently; all were either textbooks or books related to their recent causes.

He had read Asimov and Bradbury as a child, just a few of the many books he and Combeferre traded over the summers back home. To be fair, Combeferre probably owned them all already. He moved on, heading back towards the table when a spine caught his eye. He pulled the book from the tiny half-shelf of comics and turned it over in his hands, wandering back to the table.

Combeferre was still hunched over another book, his purchase pile stacked significantly taller than when he left. His glasses dangled precariously at the end of his nose, his eyes darting across the lines of text, following along with a finger pressed to the page, as if trying to absorb the words through his skin. His eyes burned with a different spark than Enjolras'; a thirst to take in everything, to learn as much as he could. He glanced up at Enjolras as he approached, motioning over wildly.

"Just look at this!" Combeferre said, pushing the book towards him. "It's got everything you could ever want to know on Ancient Egypt. Did you know that in the New Kingdom, as part of the embalming processes, you know, for mummies, they would take the brain out through the nasal cavity? They'd use this sort of hook—"

"Fascinating," Enjolras interrupted, wrinkling his nose as he sat back down. "You know, I was thinking it was almost time for lunch, but on second thought, perhaps not." He glanced up at Combeferre, but Combeferre's eyes were elsewhere. Not on his own book, however, but the one in his hands.

"Don't tell me," he said, massaging the bridge of his nose. "Don't tell me you've never read V for Vendetta."

Enjolras looked away. "I saw the movie," he muttered.

Combeferre laughed, shaking his head. "It's not the same. Oh my god." He looked up, beaming. "Oh my god, you're going to love it, I just know it. I read it a long time ago, got it out from the library, if I had known you hadn't read it—" he blushed and turned back to his own tome, propping it up in front of his face. "You'll have to let me know," he said, his voice dropping back down to it's normal register, "You know, how it is."

Enjolras smiled, turning to page one. "Of course I will." He stretched out, his feet resting against Combeferre's as he lowered his head and started reading.

"You know we still have to hit the grocery store before we go to Courf's, right?"

"Mhm." Combeferre turned a page. "We still have a bit of time."

Enjolras glanced at the window. Flurries drifted lazily past the window, the sky still light. "I suppose we do."


End file.
